BORRELIA BURGDORFERI

 

 

The hour of Noon began its slow decline,

Though I descended faster than the Sun.

Fatigue and a dull headache had begun

Abrading the coarse fabric of the Mind,

Which came unraveled, leaving me behind,

Apparently—as if all motives bled

To feed that dazzling liquid acre spread

With yellow Water Lilies and sunshine.

 

Was it the Tick I found attached last spring—

One solitary insect that contained

Those countless Lilies in each pore, floating?

Upon each blossom Buddhas, and their trains

Of Bodhisattvas, poised themselves to bless,

Revealing Nature as pure Emptiness.